


The Broken Locks

by NikkiDoodle



Series: I'm no Detective || Sherlock [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Action, Awkward Kissing, Cheating, Death, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hearing Voices, Hurt, Jealous Mycroft, Kissing, Loyalty, Male-Female Friendship, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mystery, Protective Mycroft, Recreational Drug Use, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock's Voice, Truth, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiDoodle/pseuds/NikkiDoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The truth is out and time seems to be running out. She believed she was safe with both the British Government and the worlds only Consulting Detective looking out for her. But, her past seems to have caught up and sunk its teeth right into her heart. When things take a turn for the worse, someone isn't going to come out of this in one piece. Not even the Holmes brothers could have seen this coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Second Chances

It was cold. It was dark. It was familiar. The dark cell kept her locked inside. Her small orbs looked about, but the hope was long since gone. Her tiny hands wrapped around the chilling bars, her mouth dry from pleading for them to let her out, even if it was only for a moment. Her eyes were red and puff around the corners from the crying, her legs shaking from the work they had just put her though. She sniffled, knowing that nobody was coming to her rescue. She had believed that she could have trusted them, but they had turned against her and had done this to such a small and innocent child. All she wanted was to go home. She wish she would have listened to her and not have went with them. Now, now she was paying for it in more ways than one for being a disobedient child. Hearing the door open, the light flooded into the room, causing her to shut her eyes as the pain flooded into her.

Though her eyes were closed, she could hear the clacking of their boots against the cobble floor. She peeked open an eye and looked up to the man. She pushed herself back from the bars, gripping onto her tattered clothes and felt as if she wanted to shrink away and just disappear than go back to working. The door was unlocked and the man reached in and grabbed her arm, pulling her out and nearly throwing her across the room, ignoring her pleads for him to stop. She didn't want to work today, she didn't enjoy working in the way they made her. Both men made her feel disgusting, she wanted no part of it. She didn't want to live anymore. If she could die, she could get away from here. If _they_ would die, she could get away from here.

 

* * *

 

"[Name]?" John's voice called out, causing you to lift your head from the book and shake your head, her mind was drifting. John gave you the look as if he needed help, or saved, you honestly couldn't tell which one it was really. John and Mary had came by for a visit and to work on the wedding arrangements. So far, things hadn't gone according to plan. Sherlock had been more or less been acting like himself, only more controlling and weird as he was helping make the arrangements.  Your eyes caught John's and once again you could see the pleading that lingered within them, almost begging for you to help him get out of here.

"Yeah John?" you asked, wondering what it is that the man wanted. He raised a brow and his nose wrinkled ever so slightly. He seemed slightly uneasy, though you didn't know what about.

"You alright?" he asked, catching you off guard. You blinked, nodding your head and giving him a rather confused look as if to why he had asked the question.

"Yeah? I'm fine? Why?" At this point you could feel two more pairs of eyes on you, both Mary and Sherlock were now looking at you as well. You turned to look at them, Mary's lips were parted slightly and Sherlock's eyes held a small gleam of curiosity. You turned back to John, who was still looking at you with the same expression as before.

"You just, you look a little pale is all. Are you sure you're alright?" he asked one last time. You blinked, you were feeling a little tired but besides that you were fine. You nodded, a smile peeking out to your lips as you gave everyone a once over look in the room.

"I'm fine. Yes, I'm fine. I'm just a bit tired." you explained. John seemed satisfied with this answer and allowed it to drop. Mary and Sherlock went right back to planning the wedding while John sat across from you and continued to read the paper. Your eyes turned back down to your book. The truth was is that you weren't fine actually, something was bothering you deeply but you did everything you could to push it back to the back of your mind. Giving a small sigh, you exhaled your breath and turned the page in your book, continuing to read in Sherlock's chair while he and Mary went over the wedding plans.

 

* * *

 

After another few hours of working with the wedding plans, Mary had decided that it would be best for Sherlock to go out and work on a case. Sherlock had become so wrapped up in this wedding planning that he had become tediously nervous, and it was indeed showing. It took John a couple of tries to get Sherlock out of the flat, but when he finally did, they were both gone within minutes, leaving both you and Mary alone in the flat. She decided to sit down in John's old chair right across from you and visit with you, since you were the only one left besides herself. She sat down, crossing one leg over the other she laced her fingers together and placed them over top her knee where she sat there and looked at you with a smile on her lips.

"So, what book are you reading?" she asked, attempting to make some small talk. You glanced up, a smile grazing your lips as you held up the front cover of the book. Mary's lips turned into an open o as her eyes narrowed with a look of disgust upon her face.

"Ooo, _Hannibal_ , that's certainly a book." You couldn't help but smile, enjoying the reaction you had gotten out of her.

"He reminds me a lot of Sherlock. Though, with less eating people." Mary laughed at your joke finding it rather funny. "Because if you really think about it, the way Hannibal and Sherlock think aren't really all that different from each other." Mary pondered on your words for a moment before nodding as she leaded back in John's chair and looked about the room.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. They really do think about the same don't they?" You nodded, saving your place in the book before closing it shut. You placed the hardcover down on the small table next to Sherlock's chair. Now you and Mary simply stared at one another with nothing left to do. She looked about the room some more before her eyes re-landed on you.

"So, this is where you, John, and Sherlock all use to spend time together." she mentioned. You nodded, knowing that she was just trying to start up a conversation so it would be less awkward as you felt it was right now.

"Yeah, for the last four years I've known Sherlock. I mean, I met him long before moving to England, but I didn't really start knowing about him till re-meeting him again when he moved into the flat. That's when I met John about three years ago." you informed her, recalling when Sherlock helped you and your aunt out of the bind by putting her husband to death.

"What was Sherlock like when you first met him?" She was intrigued to learn more about the consulting detective, as would be anyone who hasn't lived with the man. You laid your head back against the softness of the chair, closing your eyes and recalling the first time you actually lived with both him and John.

 

* * *

 

"Auntie!" you shouted as the front door to 221 Baker Street opened and revealed the elder woman. Mrs. Hudson laughed and cheered, embracing you in her arms in a loving manner.

"It's so good to see you again, [Name]! My how you've grown! Why you're taller than me now!" she laughed, making you laugh in the process. A lot had changed since she had been with you in the states.

"I've missed you so much, Auntie." you told her, your thick American accent spewing out in the foreign country. Mrs. Hudson smiled more as she looked down at the bags at your feet, patting your on the arms she pulled away and moved aside in the doorway so that you could enter inside.

"Now, when I last spoke with your mother on the phone, I know that we had agreed to allowing you the flat B." Mrs. Hudson said as you picked up your bags and brought them inside, sitting them down by your feet while you took off your coat and hung it on the rack. "However, I've had someone already rent out that flat just the day before you arrived." You stopped and turned toward your aunt a deep frown on your face. You thought that this meant that you would have to return home, back to America, and was no longer welcome here. Mrs. Hudson noticed the look upon your face and quickly shook her head.

"It's alright though dear, I've got a spare room that I'm not using in my flat. You're more than welcome to turn that into your bedroom." You felt a wave of relief wash over you. You had feared that you'd have to return to America, but your aunt wasn't about ready to have you be chased off that quickly. Mrs. Hudson showed you to your room and allowed you time to unpack some of the things that you had. But, unpacking your room quickly became boring and you wanted to explore the place a bit. Leaving your new room, you journeyed through the building and discovered the location of the kitchen, bathroom, living room, and your own aunt's room. Once you had discovered just about everything there was to discover downstairs, you decided to head up the flight of stairs and to the apartment B.

The door was wide open and there was already piles of books and furniture inside. You peeked your head around the corner and took note of the room. It was laid out very strangely as your eyes noticed the decorative design, and that was when you eyes landed on it and had you enter the room. You made a bee-line straight for the mantel and picked up a human skull that was just sitting there on the dusty shelf. You held it in between your fingers and ran it across the rather smooth and yet bumpy surface of the bone. You were so transfixed in the object that you neglected to hear anyone else enter the room as your back was turned to the door.

"Eh, hello?" The deep British voice pulled you out of your thoughts and nearly startled you half to death, nearly causing you to drop the skull, but you were able to hang onto it. When you turned, you caught site of a very large and rather lanky man standing there in a nice looking attire with a dark long jacket on. He wore a blueish scarf that would have matched his transfixing eyes had they not have been so bright and beautiful. His dark curly locks seemed to be uncombed and looked as if all he did in the mornings to get ready was run his fingers through it and give it a good ruffle. He stood there watching you, trying to read you over like everyone else he was able to do. He was able to get very little from you, but it was enough for the moment.

"Hi." you said rather shyly. You felt embarrassed that you had been caught, in who you had guess was this man's new flat, holding his, er, things. His eyes flickered from the skull to you, your voice gave away that you were America and thus he put two and two together.

"I'm guessing you're Mrs. Hudson's niece? The one that I was informed about that would be moving into this flat from America. Apologizes, but I was in need of a room myself and Mrs. Hudson was able to give me a rather good deal on the place for... _assisting_ her with something from the states." 

"Y-yeah. My name's [Name]." you told him. He seemed to not remember you at all from when you met him in the states when he helped Mrs. Hudson. Then again, why would he remember? He was probably a very busy man who did work for a lot of people. You gulped, looking down to the skull that you held in your hands. His gaze followed yours down to the bone,  
  
"An old friend of mine." He informed you, smirking. "When I say friend..." You looked back up when you heard him clear his throat. Figuring that it would be best to put his "friend" back on the mantel now that you had been caught.  
  
"Tell me, how long do you plan on staying downstairs?" He inquired, causing your young eyes to turn toward him. Your brows frowed together, wondering why he was so curious to begin with?  
  
"Well, I'm not sure. I moved here to be with my aunt because she wanted me to live with her." He watched you, everything from your body language to the soft tone of your voice. He didn't pick up anything that he could tell showing that you were lying. He nodded, walking more into the room and toward his desk, this gave you the chance to head toward the door.  
  
"I do a lot of work and I need absolute silence when doing so. Make yourself the least irritable as possible while you make your stay." You paused at the door, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. His comment for some reason made you feel slightly on edge. There was just something about him that sent a shiver down your spine, but it wasn't a bad shiver at all, oh no, it was a shiver of excitement. You knew that there was going to be something big that was brought along with this man, though you didn't know what at the time, you knew he would make an impact on your life; forever.

 

* * *

 

Your meetings with John Watson went much smoother than it had went with Sherlock Holmes. Doctor Watson was very kind and you were extremely interested with his time in the service. Military history had always fascinated you to no end, and due to this you and John Watson became friends very quickly. Though you didn't get to spend a whole lot of time with the man, due to Sherlock pulling him off at random times to go on cases in which you were never allowed to go on with them, you would spend your time waiting about for them to return so that you could spend some more time with the lesser evil of the two.

"I thought about becoming a doctor once." you told John, sipping some tea while your nose crinkled at the rather stiff taste as it lacked the sugar that you were so use to back home. John just chuckled, watching as you strived to endure the god awful taste of the English tea.

"But I never really had the time to study." John nodded, know from his own experience that it did indeed take time and effort in order to become a doctor. Though, he admitted that he was happy that you hadn't become one, or else the two of you could have never have met. You laughed, that was very true.

"So, you've been in England for a little over a month, how are you liking it thus far?" John inquired, curious as to how you've been able to deal with the switch over from America to England. You smiled softly, sipping another small thing of tea before giving the same tart expression you had given earlier. John couldn't help but laugh and shake his head as he sat in his chair across from you. You, sitting in Sherlock's chair, placed the tea cup down onto the saucer and shook your head wildly.

"I enjoy everything but that awful tea!" John couldn't help but laugh louder than before. "It needs more sugar!" He shook his head, still howling with laughter.

"No, you're just not use to it. You're use to smothering everything in sugar and not being able to taste anything that's actually good for you." he teased. You sent him a playful glare before you both laughed a little more.

 

* * *

 

"Sounds like you got on with John a lot better than Sherlock when you first moved in here." Mary said, interrupting your story. You looked to her and shrugged.

"That was a long, long time ago." you told her, "Now John's gone. Sherlock's back. I've lived with Mycroft for the last two years. Nothing's the same." She frowned with your words. She felt the heart-break and sentimental for you and everything that you had to endure.

"Speaking of Mycroft, Sherlock's brother, how did you end up meeting him?" she asked, "How did you come across him?" Your eyes flickered back over to her as a small smile came to your lips as you rested back in the seat.

"Oh, trust me, I didn't find Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes found _me._ "

 

* * *

 

 It was getting rather late outside and you were walking back home from the store. Mrs. Hudson had asked for you to go and pick up some food from the store before they closed. On your way back you had taken a notion that you were being followed by a black car that was trailing behind you not too far away. You became nervous and kept to the brightly lit streets as you made your way home, even if it meant taking the longer route if you were to keep safe. You didn't know who was following you or why they did so, but you were very on edge about it. Finally, you had to come to a crosswalk that required you to stop and wait for the light to change. The car then pulled up to the curb and the back window rolled down to revile a nicely dressed brunet woman who was on her blackberry.

"Hello Miss. [Last Name]." Her voice held a very sweet tone as she used your last name. This startled you as you had never seen this British woman in all your life. You took a step back, prepared to run if you had to. She must have noticed your uneasiness as she smiled and shook her head.

"Do not be afraid. I work for the elder Mr. Holmes." You raised a brow, the _elder_ Mr. Holmes? "Sherlock Holmes's elder brother is my boss. He would like to meet you, Miss. [Last Name]." She continued to say. You looked about to make sure that there was nobody else coming toward you. You were still worried, you had never once heard of Sherlock mention an older brother before now, and why would he want to meet someone like you?

"I'm not going to force you to come, but I would advise that you should come." You looked back to her, "We are on a tight scheduled." The car door opened and she slid over for you to get into the car. You gulped, there was no way this woman could have been lying about something like this... could she? Why go through with such a plan if she just wanted to kidnap you then she would drag you into the car by force.

"What's your name?" you asked, causing the woman to look at you with a smile. "Anthea." She stated simply. You stood there for a moment longer before deciding that you'd risk the chance, you climbed into the car and closed the door, placing your bags down by your feet you turned around and put your seat belt on as the car pulled away with you sitting inside next to the woman who said her name was Anthea.

"So, where are we going?" you asked after about ten minutes of nothing but silence and her clicking away on her phone. She glanced over at you and gave a small smile.

"Don't worry, we're almost there." You turned away from her and she went back to playing on her phone. A couple more minutes passed and you watched out the window as the car pulled into this large and seemly abandoned building. When the car came to a stop, you were motioned to get out. Leaving your bags in the car, you stepped outside of the nice car and noticed a older man standing in a three piece suit with an umbrella at his side. His ginger hair was combed over and rather thinning and he had a mole on the right side of his cheek. You approached him slowly, standing a good couple of feet away.

"Good evening." he smiled, holding out his hand for a handshake. You hesitated for a moment before moving forward and taking his hand and giving him a firm shake, pulling away and stepping back to the space where you once were.

"Hi." You noticed he looked you up and down once before his eyes moved back to your own. He continued to smile for the longest time before his eyes drifted from yours and out into the place where you were both currently standing.

"I suppose you're wondering who I am and why you're here?" He was dead on the money. Though you knew his last name was Holmes, you had no clue as to why you were here or why he wanted to meet you in a place such as this.

"Yeah." He shifted on his feet for a moment before reaching in and pulling out a card and handing it to you. Your fingertips reached out and took the card in between them as you retracted your arm and read the card.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes. I am the elder brother of Sherlock Holmes, the man whom you currently have the displeasure of living with." You looked up from the card that had his name scribbled in a very neat cursive writing on a very expensive and thick looking piece of paper. Below his name was a number, most likely a number that you could use to contact him, but why?

"I've called you here because I have some concerns I would like to discuss with you about Sherlock Holmes." His smile was now no longer present as his face turned rather serious.

"Okay?"

"It has come to my attention that he needs certain _people_ to look out for his well being since I am not always able to keep a _watchful_ eye on him." he explained in the simplest of terms for you. "I believe that you'd be someone best fit for the job since you do indeed live in the same complex as him. Course, there will be a substantial payment involved if you wish to pursue this type of... _request._ " Your eyes flickered from the card up to him. This man, who was suppose to be the elder brother of Sherlock Holmes, was going to pay you to spy on his little brother for money? You bit your lower lip and pulled it in between your teeth; it was like America all over again.

You placed the card in between your fingers and ripped it in two right before his very eyes, slightly shocking him. He watched as you ripped it multiple times until there was nothing left but little specks of white card on the dirty floor.

"You can forget it! I'm not being your lookout! If you wanna spy on your own family then get someone else to do it!" He raised a brow, your anger had come out of no where. Your once quiet voice was now echoing through the large and empty building, he knew he had struck a nerve somewhere. He sighed, shifting on his feet again Mycroft ran his hand over his head and smoothed out his hair.

"Alright Miss. [Last Name], no reason to get overly-dramatic about the whole situation." he wanted her to stop yelling, she had a loud voice when needed. "I'm simply curious though now as to why you've rejected my job offer? Care to explain?"

"I don't have to explain anything to someone like you, asshole!" you shouted, causing his eyes to widen by hearing such obscene language coming from a woman of your age. He merely blinked and you had turned your back to him as you stormed back toward the car, ready to leave.

"Know that so long as you live with Sherlock Holmes, Miss. [Last Name], we will continue to be in contact." he reassured you. Still slightly shocked that you had cursed at him over a simple question. His own answer was the sound of the car down slamming shut. He sighed, watching as you pulled away in the car and headed back to Baker Street.

 

* * *

 

"You did _not_ curse at Mycroft Holmes!" Mary asked shocked as could be. You chuckled rather gitty.

"Course I did. But, then again I didn't know at the time that he _was_ the British Government until I informed Sherlock about it when I returned home." you chuckled, remembering just how awkward it was from there on out after your first meeting with Mycroft. That was years ago, now the two of you were rather close, just as you and Sherlock were, the three of you stuck together more than any one of you knew.

"Sherlock found amusement everything Mycroft would visit there on after. He found it funny how I would avoid Mycroft at all cost till I started to figure out that he wasn't angry with our first meeting." Mary snickered, knowing that you were indeed awkward when it came to new people.

"But you three get along well now, right?" she asked, though already knowing the answer to the question. You looked over at her and nodded your head, your eyes flickering down to the bracelet that adored your wrist.

"Yeah." Mary's eyes followed your line of vision. She noticed the silver object wrapped around your wrist, something that rarely ever left its spot. But, she also noticed the lack of something else.

"Really? Because, I see a bracelet from one of the boys, but not a ring from the other?" You closed your eyes, recalling the _promise ring_ that Sherlock had tried to give you, but you had rejected it. You had your reasons as to why you couldn't accept it. Sherlock had left you alone for two years without any contact what-so-ever. He told you that he had to go undercover and fake his death to make sure that everyone was kept safe; you wouldn't take that as an answer. Mycroft knew, Sherlock's parents knew, even that Molly Hooper knew.

"It's complicated..." you told her, closing your eyes, not really wanting to speak upon this right now.

"It's only as complicated as you tend to make it." Your eyes opened, you couldn't help but send her a small glare that caused her to lift her hands in the air and go on the defensive.

"All I'm saying is that you shouldn't allow your past to control what happens now. I know you care for Sherlock Holmes, and I know that he hurt you badly. But, give him a second chance. Everyone deserves them."

"Even Sherlock Holmes?" Mary couldn't help but smile at your reply, watching as your face softened with each word that she spoke to you. She nodded, giving off that motherly way that she always tended to do with you.

"Even Sherlock Holmes."


	2. I'll Risk It All To Protect You

 

  
**Perception**  
 

Such a simple word and yet it holds such great power for the beholder. Because for one to even accomplish such a skill as perception one must first be be worthy of such a feat. Because, even to this day there are only two men in which are worthy of this skill.  
 

The Holmes Brothers

  
They both have the skill and even though a majority of the time they might never say it, but you knew that they both meant well. Unlike the other 6 billion people on Earth who would use the skill of perception for their own needs and goals, the Holmes brothers use theirs as a way of helping others and protecting those who mean the most to them.

But, even though they might mean well, it still does not excuse the actions in which are taken to proceed in such reassurance. So, knowing this to be true, how were you suppose to forgive Sherlock Holmes? That was the question that you had been pondering since the wedding plans that day. The day Marty had told you to forgive Sherlock Holmes for the actions he had taken in order to protect her and everyone else that was of importance to him.

Still, as you sat there in the comfort of his chair watching as he looked upon the apartment wall that was covered in papers, you wondered just how were you suppose to forgive the man standing before her? Deep down somewhere you knew you still cared for him. Sherlock Holmes was your dearest friend and you found that you still held strong emotions for him, knowingly that he would never return them. So, you watched him from afar always knowing that in the end she would be there for him, no matter just how stupid he would act. So, in the simplest of terms you could say that you had already somewhat forgiven him for what you could understand about the man. But, you were reluctant to tell him.

"So, the door was locked form the inside," The deep British voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your blank stare upon his back. "And there were no traces of the weapon nor the escape route in which our attempted murder had taken." His hands were cradled underneath his chin as he moved his fingers slowly across the bottom of his chin. You watched as he had given a heavy and frustrated sigh. Sherlock was at his wits end on this case. All the while you continued to sit there and watch him from his chair, catching every movement no matter how little it may have been.

He took a step forward, advancing toward the wall to better gaze upon each picture closer and with greater care, wondering if he was missing a key piece of evidence to this nearly unsolvable mystery. You watched him just as she had been doing all day. Since he had awoken he had been glued to his case, trying to figure out what he was missing. The entire time he knew you were there watching him. Honestly he didn't mind it at all, though the occasional staring did distract him every so often, still he didn't mind you sitting in his chair.  
 

Actually, he rather enjoyed knowing that you were there with him, and that you were safe.

  
It was that moment in which Sherlock stopped his glaring at the wall and turned to look at you. When he noticed everything about you in one instant of a mere glance, though he still found himself unable to read you like everyone else, he found his eyes unable to take themselves off your own [e/c] eyes. You looked at him confused, wondering why his gaze was so suddenly converted from the case before him and onto you. You both watched one another for a good minute as neither one of you spoke. So many questions started to thicken within your head as to why Sherlock just suddenly turned and was now gazing at you with such an intense stare.

"Dinner." The words slipped from his mouth and into the silent room. You blinked, trying to figure out if the word was related to the case or if he was suggesting the offer of food. When you continued to stare at him with that blank expression, he knew he needed to elaborate.

"Shall we go to dinner?" It was a much better attempt at bringing forth a response from yourself. However, before you could even give him an answer it seemed that he already had decided for you. He whipped his body around, continuing to carry on the conversation as he reached for his coat.

"How about we take a cab and go to that Chinese restaurant down the street?" he offered while flipping up his collar on his coat and grabbing his scarf in the process. Her eyes lingered on all of his movements as he proceeded to get ready, figuring that you would most likely agree.

"Um, Sherlock." you started, only to be cut off by his continuing talking.

"You're right, the cafe sounds much better right now." he said, thinking that you would rather much have some of that diner food that was just below the flat. You took a small breath and held it, knowing that Sherlock was trying to keep you from speaking and only speaking if you were to agree with him.

"Sherlock, please." He stopped his bustling about the room when he noticed the hint of frustration in your voice. He turned slowly and gazed upon your body, which was now sitting upright in the chair rather than slouched and very much relaxed like earlier before he offered dinner. 

"It's not that I don't want to have dinner with you," You watched his face for any type of expression that might give you a clue behind his thinking. "But, I've already made arrangements prior to now." Sherlock stood there he hadn't moved since you started speaking, not even blinking, he just kept his gaze on you. You started to grow restless with his eyes on you, your social anxiety must have been kicking in with his gaze on you for so long. Standing was the only thing you could think of doing and walking past him, you had to get his eyes off you. Luckily for you, his view seemed to stay where you had been as you started to walk past him with your head in a downward glance.

"If you would, inform my  _blood_  that I would at least once..." he cleared his throat, "like to enjoy a night and dinner with you." He seemed so awkward when saying those words. He certainly had changed since the fall and it still greatly bothered you. Never before would he have asked to have you the whole night or ask you to dinner. A silent sigh left your lips as you made your way down the stares and to the first floor. When you went to grab for your coat, you heard a rather sad tune playing on the violin, knowing that Sherlock expressed his feelings best through music, you couldn't help but feel the song take a tole on your heart.

  
_Everything was so dark..._

_It had to be dark in order to keep her there..._

  
_But, why did it have to be her..._

 

"Miss. [L/N]?" Mycroft's voice brought you out of your thoughts. He pulled you back to the dinner table with him.  He had brought you to a nice restaurant tonight. He said it was suppose to be simple, but you should have known better after all this was Mycroft Holmes. You should have known that he wasn't going to make this a simple night out, and you should have dressed better rather than the casual form in which you found yourself in tonight. You felt slightly embarrassed as he had caught you so deeply in thought. He smiled softly, moving his hand toward his glass and taking a small sip of wine from the expensive glass.

"Sorry, I was just-"

"Thinking?" he asked, finishing off your sentence. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, truly embarrassed that he was able to read you so easily just like his brother. You nodded your head which earned a humming noise that came from Mycroft as a response. Placing the glass back down on the white cloth table cover, he turned his attention back to you. Mycroft crossed one leg over the other and rested his hands on the table as they were enclosed together with his fingers laced as such.

"Something has been on your mind since we arrived." he commented, causing your eyes to move from the table to his own stunning and mysterious gaze. "Mind telling me what's bothering you?" You blinked, wondering if you should really tell him what had been on your mind.

"I've just had a lot of random stuff on my mind." you told him truthfully. "But, it's nothing that won't pass." He watched the fake smile cross your lips. He watched as you put on that mask that you had started to create shortly after Sherlock faked his death. He knew that something was troubling your mind, he knew that there was something that bothered you terribly, but what it was he did not know.

"I shouldn't have to inform you of this little bit," Mycroft said as softly as he could manage. "But you know that if you are ever in need of anything, anything at all you may call me." You didn't know how to react from such a kind offer especially from Mycroft himself. Your gaze lingered within his own. You honestly hadn't expected such a sentence to come from Mycroft Holmes. You knew Mycroft wasn't the type of man to just up and tell anyone that if they were in need of anything to call him. It was sudden, but you had a flashback to that night years ago when you had suddenly taken the opportunity to kiss Mycroft in his office. You couldn't help but think about the reaction that you received from him. He hadn't kissed back but he also hadn't moved away. And it made you wonder.

"Why?" Your voice was louder than you had originally anticipated. Mycroft's gaze never faulted nor did he seem to have any doubt within his next words.

"Because, I too can be sentimental when it comes toward acquaintances." Mycroft might have been a smooth talker, but even you knew that he was lying.

"I thought you said that  _all lives end, all hearts are broken, caring is not an advantage._ So, why care about me?" Mycroft seemed rather baffled that you had known about that night, and had been able to remember his sentence word-for-word. He wondered just how much of that night in the halls of the hospital you knew about.

"Did Sherlock inform you of this?" His voice was calm as if acting like he wasn't the least bit surprised, but you could tell that he'd suddenly became nervous with this conversation with the way his head turned and his brow raised.

"Sherlock doesn't tell me anything," you told him. "Especially way back then." Mycroft's interest seemed to be peaked now as he wondered just how it was you seemed to know about all of this.

"Then pray tell how you knew about that particular conversation." he asked as the food that had been ordered arrived at the table being brought to the both of you on a silver cart.

"Why is it so important that you know?" you asked while picking up a fork and preparing to eat your meal. You caught something being brought up and placed onto the table. You stopped moving and allowed your food to just hand there in mid-air as your eyes were glued to the yellow folder with your full name on the tab.

"Because of your record, Miss. [L/N]." You dropped your fork onto your sterling silver plate, having it make a rather loud clash with the dishware. You felt your throat tighten, this was the second time Mycroft pulled this file out on you.

_There it is..._  
 

  
_There's your life..._  
 

_There's all your sins..._

  
"You know I hate it when you pull this crap, Mycroft." Your voice was low as it seemed that when you dropped your fork it drew the unwanted attention of several eyes. Mycroft continued to sit there in his posh like form and very collective as if none of this bothered him in the slightest, then again it wasn't his record that laid out in the open.

"And you know I despise doing so, but it seems to be the most effective way of obtaining your undivided attention." You sighed deeply and gave him a frustrated glare. You absolutely despised Mycroft when he would bring up your past, and even more so when it was to get you to do something for him. 

"What is it you want from me this time, Mycroft?" Your voice held no excitement nor did it hold any amusement. Mycroft could tell that having this folder out publicly on the table was rather hard for you. You wanted this over quickly, and he could indeed see this, but there was no way to quickly finish this negotiation unless you were to agree fully with everything he wanted.

"It's a rather simple task," he said, making you grit your teeth together in anticipation. "I want you to come back to work for me." It was a rather big shock. So big of a shock that you didn't even understand why Mycroft had to pull your past into all of this.

"What's the catch?" Your eyes narrowed together as your brain started to turn. Mycroft glanced at you with a rather saddened, yet placed, expression. Leaning over slightly in his chair, he placed his hands down softly on the table, no longer having his fingers laced.

"There isn't one." he explained. "Since your incident two years ago you've shown a multitude of many different disorders that I was unaware that you'd even had..." You watched as the notion of pain slipped across his face, but it faded just as quickly as it had come. You started to wonder if Mycroft Holmes wasn't starting to regret everything from the past...  _as if._

"I could simply use someone of your quality to work for me, you'd work very well with the rest of my team." You raised a brow.

"You mean in the Department of Documentation and Records Bureau?" Mycroft at this gave a slight intake of a breath as if to think of how to go about his next couple of words.

"Well, if you decide to come back, which I  _highly_ recommend, you would not only be working for the National Archives but you would also be assigned to another task." You blinked, wondering just where in the world Mycroft was going with this conversation. You knew your way around when it came to history and sorting out the records department, but what in the world else did he possibly have in mind with you?

"What would be the other task?"

"Observance mostly on one particular individual."

"I told you once I'm not spying on your brother." You told him with your eyes narrowed. Mycroft held a frown upon his lips as he cleared this throat with his hand.

"It would not be Sherlock who you would be keeping an eye on this time," you raised a brow. "Actually, you'd be keeping an eye on someone who is rather interested in Sherlock Holmes and the rest of the United Kingdom of Great Britain. A very dangerous person who has been able to completely fly under our radar until a couple of months ago." You sat there thinking about everything that Mycroft was saying. You couldn't look him in the eye as your mind buzzed right now with so many different scenarios going throughout your mind.

"Is this the reason for Sherlock's return?" You figured that if this had arisen a couple of months ago, right around Sherlock's sudden return, this it must have been correct. Mycroft conformed this with a simple nod of his head.

"Indeed. You're rather sharp now a days and that's why I'd prefer it if you'd join me and the others." You gulped, wondering why Mycroft was willing to bring you out of protection so suddenly in helping him with something this big.

"So Sherlock--"

"Knows nothing about this and I wish to keep it that way." Mycroft stated, interrupting you before you could even finish your question. "This is a high priority subject and in order for you to work with me on this you have to swear that you will tell no one else about this... understand?" You sat there for what felt like the longest time debating on if you really wanted to go through with this... was this really something that you wanted to do? Risking your life for the sake of  Mycroft's country? Risking your life for the sake of your family? Risking your life for the sake of Sherlock Holmes?

_Mycroft Holmes..._  
 

_Sherlock Holmes...._

_Protect them both..._

  
"Alright, whose this person and what do you know about them?" Mycroft leaned in as close to the table as possible to pull away your file only to replace it with another, a darker cream colored one that had the name in red. He was as close as he could be to you as he leaned over the table as he wanted no one else to hear the next few words that he uttered from his mouth.  
 

"Have you ever heard of a man by the name of  _Charles Augustus Magnussen_?"


End file.
